Chapter Ten
Jagger
I didn’t want to come to the barbecue, but my brothers started calling me early this morning and showed up to pick me up and drag me along. What I wanted to do was talk to Jo about last night. I thought I’d have a chance when I got up, but her room was wide open and the house was empty, so I assume she left early this morning. I can’t even text her since I no longer have her number, the result of a decision I made on a drunken night when I decided I couldn’t have it in my phone and not call or text.
The gate that surrounds the Canó house is open when we get there, so Mitch pulls up and parks along the side, where we have easy access to leave whenever we want. We start walking toward the house and spot Carolina Blue balloons leading to the yard and follow them. I’ve only been to this barbecue once, my freshman year. That year, I was dragged here by my parents. This year, Mitchell used the excuse that he’d be gone most of the fall since he’s going to train with one of the best baseball trainers in the country and take his classes online while he’s gone, which means we won’t be able to hang out as often. I took the bait like an idiot because I love hanging out with my brothers. I especially love hanging out with Mitch, who’s my Irish twin, and therefore, has always been closest to me.
“Boys!” That’s Rosa Canó’s greeting when she sees us from the other side of their enormous backyard.
She’s all wide smile and open arms. She has the complete opposite of Josephine’s reaction to me and most things in life, even if they do look like carbon copies of each other, with their olive complexion, dark curls, and beautiful hazel almond-shaped eyes. They have the kind of face that you can’t look away from, beautiful and expressive. Mrs. Canó has a bangin’ body too, not that I’m trying to check her out or anything, but she usually wears dresses that hug her curves and hit just below the knee. Today, she’s wearing khaki pants and a white blouse though. Still, total MILF. Not that I’d ever fuck her. I mean, I hooked up with her daughter for God’s sake. The mother-daughter thing is more of Maverick’s speed, not mine, and definitely not Mitchell’s. She gives each of us a warm hug and firm kiss on the cheek when we reach her, then holds us by the arms and gives us a once-over like a proud mother.
“You are just so handsome.” She smiles. “I’m so happy to have you here. You know, I told your mother you could stay here, but she insisted the three of you had places to live. We have plenty of space.” She waves a hand at the mansion behind her.
“Thanks for the offer,” Mitch says, “but you definitely don’t want Maverick living with you. Even Jagger won’t room with him.”
“Is that so?” She laughs, looking at me.
“He’s too messy.” I smile, looking around. “Where’s Henry?”
“He’s barbecuing right over there.” She points to the other side of the pool, where I see a very animated Dr. Henry Canó flipping burgers with one hand and holding a cold Presidente in the other. “Grab a beer, go mingle. The point of this barbecue is to meet new people. There are coaches and professors and parents and new students. I’m sure they’ll all be wanting to talk to three star athletes.” Rosa winks and walks away.
“Man, I miss Mom,” Maverick says beside me.
“Me too,” I sigh.
“Same,” Mitch agrees.
“Yo, does Rosa know you’re living with Jo?” Mav asks, turning to me.
“Hell no she doesn’t know,” Mitchell says. “She would have said something.”
“You know how they are.” I shrug a shoulder. “They’re so strict I’m surprised Jo and Misty are allowed out of the house.”
“They can’t be that strict still,” Mitch says.
“No? Why’d you sneak around with Misty when you were together that summer?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“That’s different. We were teenagers. We’re adults now.”
“You think Ma thinks I’m an adult?” Maverick asks. “She freaking sent a cleaning lady and had food delivered to me every day last week.”
“That’s because you’re a fucking baby.” I shoot him a look. “Neither of us got that treatment.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mitch snickers. “I put a stop to it quick though.”
“Yeah, when the cleaning lady caught you fucking that cheerleader,” I said.
“Right.” Mitch chuckles. “Damn, that was embarrassing.”
“You shouldn’t have given her a key to your place, dummy,” Mav adds. Mitch shrugs a shoulder.
“I never got a cleaning lady.” I frown.
“That’s because you’re a control freak. Ma knows better than to send you anything. She’d never hear the end of it,” Mav says. “It must be firstborn syndrome because I definitely don’t understand it.”